


Reasons

by Atiaran



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mass Effect 2, Pre-Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atiaran/pseuds/Atiaran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Shepard discusses some things with Garrus. Set before the Sidonis mission.  Friendship fic that can possibly be seen as pre-romance.  Shepard identifiers: Fem!Shep; Earthborn, Sole Survivor, Paragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons

**Standard disclaimer:** None of the characters, places, etc. in this story are mine, but are instead the property of Bioware.  No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story.

**Author’s notes:**   First of all, just in case any of you who have been reading my Fallout 3 fic check out this story, yes I _am_ working on at least one more Fallout 3 fic.  It’s just that a.) a bunch of RL stuff has been getting in the way, b.) the fic is going to be fairly long  (it’s at 92 pages already and has just entered the third act), and c.) even after it’s finished it’s probably going to need some fairly extensive revisions.  I _do_ intend to get the fic up and posted though—even though I may do a crappy job telling it, the story itself is too good not to tell.  So as of right now, I do intend there to be at least one more Fallout 3 fic coming down the pike, but I can’t make any guesses as to when it’s going to be finished, and it may not be any time soon.

The genesis of this Mass Effect fic, as one might guess, lies in Garrus Vakarian’s storyline in Mass Effect 2.  I had enjoyed his character in Mass Effect 1 and was really looking forward to getting him back in my squad, but the minute I caught up with him in his base on Omega, I noticed he seemed a lot harder and colder than he had in ME1.  (For this I have to partly credit Brandon Keener’s performance—he does a really good job differentiating Garrus’s personality here from that in the earlier game.)  As I learned more about his backstory and what he had been doing during the two years Shepard had been out, I actually became a bit worried about him—he was obviously in a lot of pain over the death of his squad, possibly compounded by his parting from C-Sec and the death of Shepard, and seemed to be interpreting the whole thing as a personal failure on his part, with his guilt partially externalized as his desire to “get” Sidonis and make him pay.  I was willing to help him get Sidonis if that was what he felt he needed to do, but I wanted to tell him he was solving the wrong problem and that Sidonis was beside the point: what he _really_ needed to do was forgive himself.  I was afraid at the time if I tried to talk him out of it that I’d lose his loyalty, so I just went along with it; and even if I _had_ ended up trying to, they probably wouldn’t have been exactly what I wanted to say anyway.  Hence this fic, made up partially of things I would have said if I had had the chance, and also partly as additional background for the FemShep/Garrus romance plotline. 

Shepard identifiers are: FemShep; Paragon (sort of); Earthborn; Sole Survivor.  Enjoy.

[*]

Garrus was working at the console in the Main Gun Battery when Shepard entered, his back to her and his head bowed over the data readout as he manipulated his omni-tool.  She knew that he must have been able to hear her come in, yet he gave no sign; he neither turned nor raised his head as she approached. 

“Garrus.” 

Now he turned to face her.  “Shepard.  Need me for something?”

Shepard leaned up against the wall.  “Have you got a minute?”

 “Can it wait for a bit?  I’m in the middle of some calibrations.”  Garrus looked over his shoulder, then turned back to the console, deliberately shutting her out.  Shepard felt the air of aloofness around him and frowned.

“You can do the calibrations later.  I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”  Garrus glanced up with politely feigned interest. 

“Yeah.”  Shepard held out a bottle.  “Dr. Chakwas confiscated this from Donnelly.  It’s dextro-amino wine.  He picked it up last time we were on Omega without knowing what it was, tried it, and got violently sick.  Chakwas said he was throwing up for hours.  Since you’re the only one on board who can drink it—at least, until we can convince Tali to come back,” she added with a small smile, “I thought it should go to you.”

“Oh,” Garrus repeated.  His mandibles flared a bit.  “Well.  I appreciate the thought, Shepard, but I really don’t care for drinking alone.”  _Well, there’s **that** at least,_ Shepard thought, watching him.  “I really do need to get back to my work—“

“You won’t be drinking alone.” Shepard held up a second bottle of wine.  She set it and two glasses down on the console.  “Eden Prime Merlot, right here.  So what do you say?”

Garrus’s  mandibles twitched again, and his pupils dilated slightly.  “I suppose I’ve got time for _one_  glass,” he said reluctantly.    He slid one hip onto the railing and curled one of his three-fingered hands around the stem of the glass Shepard held out to him, watching as she poured some of the turian wine for him.  “But then I really do need to get back to work.”

“I think you need to spend some time with an old friend a bit more than you need to crunch some numbers,” Shepard told him gently, pouring some of the merlot for herself.  “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since we brought you on board.  Frankly, I’m a bit concerned about you, Garrus.”

His mandibles closed up immediately, and his pupils constricted.   Turians were hard to read, but Shepard had been around Garrus enough to recognize defensiveness when she saw it.   “Concerned how?” he asked, folding his arms.

“Well, for one, you seem to spend just about all your time in the Main Gun Battery, even when you’re supposedly off.  I haven’t seen you take any sort of a break since you’ve been here.”

 He gave a short laugh. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a threat to the galaxy breathing down our necks.  That’s not exactly conducive to relaxation, Shepard.”

“You hardly eat. You almost never sleep—“

Garrus looked away, his arms still crossed.  “Turians don’t need as much sleep as humans.”  Shepard knew that was a flat lie.  “And if you think Mess Sergeant Gardner’s _human_ cooking skills are bad, obviously you haven’t tasted his attempts at turian cuisine.  I swear, I’d be less ill if I just went ahead and ate with the rest of the crew—”

“ _Garrus,_ ” Shepard interrupted him.  She held his eyes.  “I’m concerned about you,” she repeated quietly.  “I don’t like the way you’ve been acting since you joined the team.”

His mandibles tightened again, and she might have seen his shoulders tense under the heavy armor.  “If you have a problem with how I’m performing my duties—“

“That’s not what I meant,” she said.  “It seems like you’re harder than you were before.  Colder.  More distant—“

Garrus gave that short, curt laugh again.  “A lot’s happened since we last worked together, Shepard.”  He turned away, unconsciously exposing the damaged side of his face to her.  The scars stood out under the dim ship’s lighting.

“I know, Garrus,” Shepard said.  “I can see that losing your entire squad hit you hard.  I understand that it must have affected you deeply—“

“No, you don’t,” he said shortly.

“Yes.  I do.” 

Startled, Garrus looked back at her.  Shepard drew a steadying breath, controlling herself with an effort.  “I know you feel that bringing Sidonis down is something you have to do.  I’m willing to help you with that, Garrus—honestly, I am—but you have to know that it’s not going to solve anything.”  His arms tightened across his chest and he looked away again.  Shepard persisted, stepping closer.  “It’s not going to bring your squad back to life, it’s not going to—to shut up the voices in your head that say, ‘How come only _I_ lived?’ or ‘If I had just done something differently—‘“

“What do _you_ know about it, Shepard?”  Garrus turned on her roughly.  “You’re—you’re a _human._ What do _humans_ know about what duty means, especially to a turian?”

The moment he said it, he drew back, as if he realized he had gone too far.  Shepard’s jaw tightened.  “Garrus, that was uncalled for.”

Garrus turned his face away.  “That didn’t come out the way I meant it.   You didn’t deserve that, Shepard.  I apologize.  But—“ His pupils constricted.  “But my point remains.  How in the galaxy can—can someone like _you_ —“ the flanging effect in his voice sharpened “—know what it feels like?”

“Because I’ve been there.”

Garrus went still.  His pupils dilated as he stared at her.  Shepard met his gaze, finding herself reminded of a cat who had just seen something that fascinated it.  After a long moment, he asked, “When?”

She drew a steadying breath.  “Akuze.”

He looked down.  “Akuze….I heard about the human colony that failed…but I thought no one made it out of there—“

“One person did,” she said quietly.

Garrus’s mandibles twitched unsteadily.  “I—but you never said anything, you didn’t—“

“It’s not something that I like to talk about.  I’m sure you can understand.”

Garrus slid off the railing.  He poured himself a second glass of wine and spilled half of it.  “What—what happened?”

 Shepard drew another breath, deliberately clamping down her emotions.  She looked away from Garrus, directing her eyes to a point on the far bulkhead.   “We’d lost contact with the colony settlement there,” she recited.  “My squad was sent to investigate.  We landed, searched the settlement, couldn’t find anything.  The _Gettysburg_ had dropped us off, but had developed a minor difficulty with the mass effect core: they couldn’t pick us up for a day or two while they were fixing it.  We thought we’d camp that night and do some more looking around in the morning.  We didn’t understand the dangers.  No human had ever seen or heard of a thresher maw before.”  Her fingers were clenched throbbingly tight around the stem of her wineglass. “We were attacked during the night.  When the sun came up, only one of us was left.”  She paused for a moment, then repeated, “Only one.”

Garrus was silent for a long, long time, processing what she had told him.  At last he ventured, “But…you d-didn’t—you weren’t _responsible—“_

“I scouted the campsite.”

“Oh,” Garrus said quietly.  Shepard drew a few more breaths, trying to calm herself, to find her center.  After a moment, she was able to go on.

“I know how you must be feeling, Garrus,” she told him.  “Believe me, I do.  I understand it all: the sleepless nights, the questions that don’t seem to have any answers, the thoughts of _if only I had done…_ something.   Those thoughts—they come from inside yourself, Garrus.  Killing other thresher maws didn’t make them go away for me, and killing Sidonis isn’t going to make them go away for you.  Only time will heal them.  I just—“  She reached out and put a hand on his arm.  Her voice softened.  “I just want you to realize that.  I know you’re hurting, Garrus, and I hate to see you this way.”

He drew back a bit, breaking the contact between them.  “Thanks for your concern, Shepard, but I’ll be fine.   Really, I will.”

“Will you?  I don’t believe that.”  Shepard tilted her head.  “That situation we found you in—holed up in that base, with those three merc bands outside—  Garrus, that was not a situation compatible with survival.  If we hadn’t made it in when we did, you would not have walked out of there alive.  I know you.  You’re way too smart to get trapped like that by accident.”  She folded her arms.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been _trying_ to get killed.”

Garrus scoffed a bit, though he did not meet her eyes.   He hastily gulped the rest of his glass of wine and reached for the bottle, refilling it.  “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” he said curtly. 

Shepard said nothing, just looked at him.  Garrus kept avoiding her eyes for a moment, then gave a long sigh.  He leaned against the wall, tilting his head back to rest against the bulkhead.  At last, he admitted, “No.  Hell, I don’t know…give it up.”  He closed his eyes.  “I don’t know.  I just don’t know anymore, Shepard,” he confessed in a low voice.  “I don’t know what I’m _doing_ anymore.  As much as I hated working for C-Sec—having to deal with all the damn rules and regulations—at least there, there was some direction.  When I was—when I quit C-Sec, I lost that. And my squad…I just, I—I don’t know what’s left for me now.  I’m…I’m so tired, Shepard,” he said quietly.  “I have to admit, there are days when going out in a blaze of glory doesn’t seem half bad.”  He paused, then added in a wan attempt at humor, “I guess it’s convenient that the mission we’re on now is supposed to be a suicide mission.”

“Not while I’m in charge, it’s not,” Shepard said sharply.  Garrus made no reply.   A spike of fear brushed her heart.  “Garrus?  Do you _hear_ me?”

“Yeah, I hear you,” he said wearily.  He gave her a glance she didn’t know how to intepret.  “I’ll readily admit, if anyone can beat the odds, it’s you, Shepard.” 

Shepard ignored it.  She studied him, more worried than she cared to say.  “Garrus…I’m serious.  If you ever start feeling like that, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me.  Like I said, I’ve been there.  Don’t try and fight this alone—you can’t win.  Trust me, I know.”  She hesitated, then added, “I need you, Garrus.  By my side.  I can’t win this without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Shepard.”  Garrus’s mandibles flared a bit in embarrassment.  He took another swallow from his wine glass, avoiding her eyes again.  “When the time comes, I’ll make sure my head’s in the game.”

“Just remember what I’ve said, okay?” Shepard asked, reaching over to lay her hand on his arm again. 

He gave her another glance.  His mandibles twitched.  “Yes, Mother.”

Shepard smiled a bit.  “Okay, I guess I deserved that.”   She took a sip from her own glass of wine.  There was silence for a few moments as the engines hummed around them.

“So,” Shepard broke it at last.  “You mentioned you’d had trouble with C-Sec.  Want to tell me about it?” she asked gently.

Garrus sighed again.  “Not really.  Thanks for asking, though.  I think.”

“Feel like telling me what it was _about,_ at least?” she pressed.  “If not, that’s fine,” she reassured him.  “Just, if you wanted to talk about it—“

He gave her a sidelong glance.  “If you _must_ know, it was about _you_ , Shepard,” he said with a trace of exasperation.  He took yet another swallow from his wineglass.  “Working with you—seeing how you did things—it spoiled me.  After we took down Saren, I just couldn’t seem to fit back into C-Sec because of that.”

“Because of what?”

He didn’t answer her right away.  Instead he drained his glass again, holding it in loose fingers as he stared at the wall ahead.  Shepard waited patiently.  When he finally spoke, the words were lightly slurred and the “flanging” quality to his voice had thickened noticeably.

“Because of _you._ Because I wanted to be like you.”

Shepard frowned.  “I don’t understand.”

It took another moment before he answered.  His pupils dilated and he seemed to be looking beyond the bulkhead, to some bright internal vision.  His words came slowly.  “Oh, you should have _seen_ yourself, Shepard.”  He drew a breath.  “On our previous mission.  You were so—so _strong,_ ” he pronounced.  “So _confident._   You _knew_ that what you were doing was right, and were prepared to do whatever you needed to do to stop Saren.”  His mandibles flared.  “You didn’t let any bureaucracy slow you down.   Whatever you had to do, you just—you just _did_ it.  I—I wanted to emulate that,” he admitted quietly.  “That confidence, that control—Be _like_ you?  Hell, half the time I just wanted to **_be_** you. _”_   

His mandibles flared again, so broadly that Shepard could see the needle-sharp teeth behind them, and his vocal flanging grew thicker still.  “But then I went and—and got my squad all killed, because I was _stupid,_ and—“  A low, clicking noise came from the back of his throat.  “ _You_ would have _died_ before that—before letting anyone hurt your crew like that.   I’m not a good C-Sec agent, I’m not a good turian, and I guess I’m not all that great as a Spectre, either, huh?”  He gave a bitter laugh.

“A Spectre?  Garrus, I don’t understand.”

“Aaaahhhhh….”  He gave a heavy sigh, started to say something, then broke off.  “When—when I heard you were dead, it hit me hard.  Harder than….I couldn’t believe it.  It felt like it couldn’t be real.   You had always seemed so _invincible._   So powerful, like there was nothing you couldn’t do.  When you said you would stop Sovereign and the Reapers, I believed you.  I didn’t think you _could_ be killed, even….”  Then he gave a rueful laugh.  “And here you are, so I guess I was right about that.

“I’d gone in for Spectre training—I think I told you about that, how I reapplied to be a Spectre after the last mission?”  She nodded.  “Well, I—“  His mandibles tightened and that clicking sound came again.  “I couldn’t make it work.  Just couldn’t deal with all the stupid, pointless hoops I had to jump through to get there.  After you died, I thought, well, I’ll just do it on my own.  Put together a team and go vigilante.  Hell, there are plenty of places in this galaxy that could use a man with a gun—or several.  So, I did.  I built a squad just like you did.  And look where that got me.”  He paused.  “Or rather, _them._ ” 

The bitterness in his voice cut at Shepard’s heart.  She reached out to lay a hand on his arm.  “Yes, Garrus,” she said quietly, “look where it got you.”

He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“Garrus….I’m not with the Citadel anymore.  I’m not working for the Council, I’m not even a Spectre.  Hell, _technically,_ ” she said with a small smile, “I’m supposed to be dead.  I don’t even exist.  If you were still working for C-Sec, you couldn’t be on my crew.  And I don’t think Cerberus would have wanted you along if you’d had your own vigilante group in tow.  But now—“  Her hand tightened on his armor.  “You’re here.  By my side, on my ship, about to confront the greatest threat the galaxy has ever known.”  She paused, searching his face.  “I don’t know, Garrus,” she said quietly.  “I don’t have all the answers, and I’m not going to pretend that I do.  I’ve never been particularly religious—that was Ashley, not me—but dying and coming back has changed my perspective on a lot of things.  I think….”  She broke off for a moment.  “Who knows.  Maybe, just maybe, things happen for a reason.  All I know is, you’re back on my ship and…”  Her voice softened.  “Despite what it took to get you here, I’m really glad you are.”

He was silent.  The ship thrummed and vibrated around them, and the console beeped and chattered quietly in the background.  Shadows from the bulkhead lighting cast his face into darkness, but Shepard could see that his pupils were dilated, his mandibles flared slightly.  After a long moment, he let out a long, shaky sigh.  “I….I just don’t know where I fit anymore, Shepard,” he confessed quietly.  “There just doesn’t seem to be anywhere where I belong.  I guess...I guess there never really was, but….”

Shepard squeezed his arm, hard.  “You belong _here,_ ” she told him.  “On my ship, in my crew.”  She hesitated, then offered, “With me.”

Garrus was silent for a moment more.  At last, he drew an unsteady breath.  “You—you’re the only friend I’ve got left in the whole damn galaxy, Shepard.  Everyone else is….but you….” 

The sentence trailed off.  He closed his eyes and lowered his head.  Slowly, his hand crept up to cover hers.  Around them hummed the ship’s engines, singing a bright song in the darkness of space.


End file.
